Painless
by Veronica Lacroix
Summary: Darla relates wisdom to her son, recalling the key points in her life and death, leading up to the most important moment of all. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: **All characters and storylines belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The space in between is mine.

**Author's Note: **I love Darla. Her character is just so interesting to me. And I adore parent/child stories. I just simply put two and two together. I enjoyed writing this fiction so much, that it became the largest one-shot I've ever written. Crazy, because I've never written Connor/Darla before and quite possibly won't ever again. But please, read and if you find you want to review, please do!

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><p>Life is not fair.<p>

You are born into this world, a curse disguised as a blessing. You grow, privy to all the pain, the animosity, the anguish and then eventually, death. If you're lucky, you manage to achieve some amount of pride and happiness for yourself, but it's fleeting. You age and day by day, you feel the world growing just a little bit colder.

Then at the very end, you look back at last. The sting of regret and loss hurt deeper than you thought that they would. You realize that every single day was a miracle and you wonder how you made it so far. You shed a tear perhaps, for those months – those weeks – those days – that you do not remember a solitary detail about. Life was truly a gift, but you learn that you took it all for granted. By this time, it's too late.

And you're gone.

But sometimes, every once in a while, something comes and stops this ageless process. While you're at the very end of your rope and you feel Death's cold breath in your ear, calling you to that place after, it comes. A savior, you might say. It might be a friend. It might be a stranger. It might be a doctor, an uncle, a priest, a bodyguard. It might be someone you always wanted to see. It might be a vampire.

I spent the beginning of my life thoroughly hating that life I had. I seemed to have come into this world with a _chasm_ inside of me, somewhere I couldn't see, I couldn't touch – but I could feel it. It gnawed at me, a deep, throbbing, endless ache. I tried to avert the pain with everything and anything. It bred a hatred in me that I didn't understand. I hated myself, God, the people I passed on the street, my servants, the men with their hands in my skirts.

Wealth, property, sex and an ego dulled the hurt, but it was temporary. I learned how to wear a mask, a mask of confidence and contentment. I wore that mask so long, but I myself could never believe the lie. That hole was still open in me and I searched restlessly for a way to fill it.

I believed eternal life was the cure. It healed my body, it rid me of what little conscience I had left, and it thrust me out of the wiles of the world. Never before had I such _power_. All the pleasures of the world were mine to just reach out and take them. What luxury I had when I was mortal, it was nothing to the delicacies I succumbed myself to after I died. I would have been satisfied, perhaps enough to consider it happiness, if it was not for that sore.

The lack of a soul made the throb at least bearable, but it still was constantly inside of me. Haunting me, as it were. Blood quenched it for mere moments. I carried it for a hundred years, living out my vampiric life in much the same fashion as my human life. I craved the exquisite, had no patience for the weak, made my own joy and showed no mercy.

Then a thought came to me one night. It was midsummer, in Austria, a beautiful night. My young lover laid at my feet, naked. I wiped the blood from my mouth and looked at his wide, startled eyes. Had his short, pathetic life passed before them as I drank it away? What were his regrets? How many sins could he have counted? What was his joy? Before we laid together that night, he conveyed his appreciation that he no longer had to be alone. Before I sunk my teeth into him, he had confessed his love for me.

Love and loneliness were two bewildering subjects in my mind. I had spent the whole of my life and unlife very much alone. I was alone out of selfishness and necessity. Until that moment, I never before entertained the idea of _loneliness_. You see, being alone and being _lonely_ were quite different. Was it loneliness that twisted my gut in the still hours? Loneliness that plagued me?

Could I be in love? Love would surely be the end of the suffering of loneliness. If I could find a man. _The_ man. Someone to share this dark gift with, someone to teach, to hold, to care for. Thus began my long search for a mortal who was worthy. It was not easy, and there was a lot of disappointment. Until I saw _him_.

He was an angel among ants. For over a century, nothing and no one had touched me – save him. I craved him. He was young and naive in my eyes, but that would all change. I saw the darkness in him that I recognized within myself. When I looked into his eyes through to his soul and wished him to be rid of that condemning thing inside of him. I freed him.

That boy. He was a masterpiece. The trail of blood we left was legend. His aptitude for terror and despair was brilliant. Angelus never ceased to impress me. I envisioned an eternity with him at my side and it was a whirlwind of delights. The horrors we could spin, the power we could gain – it all tempted and provoked me. And for years, that pain which had tormented me subsided. I believed that I was unchained from it.

Time is never on your side. While you're alive, you caught maddeningly in between savoring time and wasting it. Everything you do seems to be a coin's toss of too soon or too late. One thing however is very clear, only one thing you can be certain of: that time, once spent, is gone and can never return. Mortal time edges you closer and closer to death with each passing second, but as a vampire, you lose that pull that lets you live.

Memories fade once you're immortal. It wasn't long until I'd forgotten what my favorite food was, what the sunlight felt like, my reflection, and then eventually, my own name. Though my inhuman memories could be recalled with impeccable detail, I lost some sense of reality and I'd left behind the rules of the world that were so concise to me when I was human. Time, unfortunately, was one of them. There is _never_ enough time.

My Angelus was stolen from me and given a soul. When I looked into his eyes, he was no longer the same. The darkness that had blazed so brightly was diminished, replaced with disgusting remorse. The humanity I'd absolved him from was returned and yet, he was not that reckless boy I'd first seen in the tavern. My lover, my childe, my very _reason_ was gone and it broke my heart. With his disappearance, the hole made its presence known once more.

But it was never love and I was still alone. On reflect, I realized that real love could never be created, bargained, stolen or asked for. It had to be something that simply _happened_ by faith or by fate. What Angelus and I had may have passed for love, but it was nothing more than a sentiment. I cared for him, I relished in him, but I would have easily sacrificed him should the opportunity have presented itself. After all, I had already damned his soul.

Destiny would see to it that we would meet again. In a different age, a different place. I was not prepared for the anguish that would ensue. Angel, the vampire with a soul, had allied himself with the Slayer. What was more, that he _loved_ her. Much more than he had ever cared for me. That soul in him allowed him to touch, to affect, to _be_ loved. I wished that he had come back to the fold, but he could not be convinced. Whatever we had, in spite of how long we had it, was scattered to the winds. When I became a threat to the Slayer's life, he became a threat to mine – and he ended it.

I thought Hell would be a place of physical torment. I thought I would see all the lives I'd destroyed played out for me one by one. A barren wasteland of my existence, where I'd be forced to tried and executed for my crimes – endlessly. I was mistaken. It was _nothing_. A blank, black and empty abyss. Then as quickly as I'd come there, I was brought back. Cold, shuddering and naked in a box. For a moment, I thought that I was finally in Hell. I was right. It was Earth.

And I was human again. The soul in me screamed. All the horror I'd created, all the carnage, all the evil things I'd done were revealed to me. I couldn't bear it – the faces of those people swimming before my waking eyes, their fear, their pleads, their monstrous ends. The ones who'd brought me back to life had a purpose. To destroy Angel – to drive him so far to the edge that his only chance for escape was to fall off. I did what they asked and tasted sweet revenge, but I wanted more.

That chasm had come back with a vengeance. The weight of my soul was crushing me. I sought to bring back that little peace, to hide from the pain. Angel refused to meet my request, refused to do to me what I had done so very long ago. He cared for me in some strange way that he couldn't take my life – he thought it was my second chance. My days were numbered and I feared death for the first time. Four hundred years wasn't enough time. I wanted to live _forever_.

Fate played her hand, surprising me again. Drusilla – the insane pious girl Angel had sired – did what he could not. The absence of my soul gave little relief. I was again rid of the disease of mortality, but I felt empty and not in the way I had before. It wasn't that blissful weightlessness I once had. That aperture inside followed me into my second vampiric life. It was eating away at me, cryptically yearning for something I couldn't find. I was afraid that it would turn me inside out if I could not satisfy the ache.

I attempted to delay it with my blood-lust, with power, with the vileness that had numbed it before. Nothing worked. I need my old tourniquet, I needed my Angelus. Something in him had learned to love me even if it was some small degree. It wasn't enough to keep him from trying to destroy me, but perhaps it was enough to let him lose himself. If I could make him happy, truly happy, just for one isolated moment, he would come back to me.

I failed. Things can never happen the same way twice. All the power and control in the world could not have saved me from the despair that followed. It was as if the whole universe was making a bitter example out of me. Instead of taking away Angel's soul, I was _given _one. Yours.

Nothing about it made sense. It was impossible, but I carried you. And I hated you more than I had ever hated anything in my entire existence. I searched for answers high and low, went to places I never dared do. Time and again I tried to destroy you. For nine months, you continued to grow, mocking my whole being with your presence. The blood didn't satiate, the kills were meaningless, nothing mattered. I kept myself blind to your simple miracle, even though it was under my nose every second of every day: that you were _alive_.

You were not the terrible hell-creature that I had expected. You were human, you had a soul. Your life very literally infected mine. I thought it was driving me mad – the endless thirst, the unstable emotions, the reckless endangerment of even my own safety. But you were strong, you endured it all. It wasn't until the end that I finally saw the truth.

Family meant little to me but a title. My own human family I couldn't even remember, and I highly doubted that I cared even when I was alive. When Drusilla and Spike joined Angelus and I, it was never out of love, though Drusilla often called us a 'family'. We didn't have the ability to connect with any other person in that way. And I would have easily abandoned them if the need arose. But suddenly, the thought of 'family' occurred to me.

I was with child. _My_ own flesh and blood. This was not some creature of the night that I had created out of violence and death. You grew inside of me, organically, miraculously. When I finally accepted what you were, and what _I _was going to be, something inside of me moved. I didn't have to go on not being loved, I didn't have to be so alone any longer. That gaping hollow that had shadowed me for as long as I could remember was being filled. You filled it.

I understood at last what real love felt like. What joy was. I felt you move inside of me and I listened to your quick heartbeat and I knew. I _adored_ you. Your soul spread out and touched me, filling me with happiness. _You_ were absolutely a part of _me_, bringing to my life that thing that I never knew I needed. My only regret was that I knew it wouldn't last - time was not on our side.

I was a soulless demon. I knew that once I'd given birth to you, the instant that cord that tied us together was cut, I would revert. My greatest fear was that I'd forget all that I'd felt and try to harm you. Yet all the same, I needed to protect you, to keep you healthy, to bring you into this world. The universe took all these variables and allowed me to see a way.

My body could not grant you life. You were dying inside of me, I could feel it. I was so frightened that I would lose you. I never knew that I had all these innate maternal instincts hidden away, but they were at the forefront of my mind then. No matter what, _you_ had to survive. I knew Angel would take care of you, but it wasn't easy to let go.

I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be able to hold you close to me, to feel you breathe, to hear your cries, your laughter. I wanted to be able to tickle you, to sing you to sleep, to watch you grow. I wanted to bounce you on my knee, to comfort you, to tell you stories. I wanted to kiss you, to touch your warm, soft skin, to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were mine. I only wanted to love you, but life is not fair. In a dark alley, in the rain, before another moment passed with you suffering in the dead body I possessed, I ended my life. And you were born from my dust.

I felt nothing. I expected that I'd returned to that place where I'd come from before. Then a cry rang out. I opened my eyes and there you were. You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen – my son. Your hands were balled into tiny fists, your mouth wide open in a squall. I reached down to take you up in my arms, but I wasn't allowed. You couldn't feel me nor could you hear me calling. I watched as Angel scooped you up and he didn't see me either – no one heard me.

I fell to the cement and sobbed. I don't remember ever crying so helplessly because I don't remember being quite so overwhelmed with sorrow. So _this_ was the Hell they'd devised for me. They would let me watch, but that was all. I could never talk with you, or touch you. You would _never _know I was there. I was no longer a part of this world, but still trapped by it. I couldn't feel the rain, or the street or anything at all. This was true torture after all.

I spent the next few months trying to deal with my death. I watched you constantly. I saw the moment you first opened your eyes, I fretted every time you woke yourself up in a nightmare. I watched as Angel struggled to provide for you and I wished that I could help. He was so preoccupied with your future that soon, he was going to miss out on the present. I saw Holtz hunting you. I saw Wesley becoming deeply paranoid about Angel and his concern for your life. I watched your early life become a maelstrom of panic, fear and misunderstanding.

When the tensions peaked and all hell broke loose, I was more afraid than ever. I begged for your life when Holtz held you hostage. When you disappeared, I somehow, disappeared along with you. It was unexplainable how I was allowed to be so close to you, even unto leaving one dimension for another. Still, I could do nothing more than watch. Watch as you grew, raised by Holtz – your parents' true enemy – and watch as he bred the hatred of demons and more importantly, _us_, into you. He renamed you Stephen and you never knew that you weren't his.

I took pride in watching you grow strong and brave, reminding me so much of your father. Stubborn and stalwart, traits I'd like to think you inherited from me. Unfortunately, Quor'toth was not a place to raise children. The hellish landscape shaped you into a mirthless being, right from the beginning. I wished that I could soothe your tense brow as you slept, keep the demons you hunted in dreams and in waking at bay.

You grew into an incredible young man, with stores of resource and strength I had not considered. You achieved the impossible, returning to our world – the world you were born into. I was tugged through along with you, along with Holtz. I saw your fear of the bright, harsh city strike you and I again wished that I could speak to you, to guide you through this strange world. Holtz offered little comfort to you, aside from directing your purpose. It was time you met your father – the vampire who created you.

I felt the hatred you had for Angel just as strongly as you must have. Your hate was so misplaced; so many things you didn't know. You fought with him and I stood on the sideline, panic and sympathy both at the forefront of my emotions. Angel had a good heart, but he had no finesse when it came to sensitive subjects or sensitive boys. Even though you had this great, strong front for everyone, I knew you better than anyone. I knew that at your core, you were afraid, you were lost and that you were searching for truth.

Miscommunication and misguidance led to Angel's demise. You wrongly blamed him for Holtz's death, which was his plan all along. You took vengeance upon him and sunk him in the bay. For the first time in your life, _I _was angry with you. I was disappointed that you could be led so far astray. You abandoned the one living soul that loved you unconditionally, that would have gladly died for you. I tried, in vain, with my intangible limbs to grab you, shake you, make you see reason. I shouted, but you never heard me.

When your father returned, it surprised the both of us. True to his character, Angel showed you mercy. I was touched. _I_ would have never been so kind. I was a cold, heartless creature and those who betrayed never even survived to rue the day they did. Then again, Angel had a soul – a luxury I had been long without.

You kept your distance for a while. I know that you were troubled; your world had been turned on you so many times, it was hard to tell what was right and what was wrong any more. Your only solace was in hunting and killing – demons, of course. It was instinct for you, habit. But you were so very alone. Even with me shadowing your every step.

Of course, I knew what drew you to Cordelia in the first place. Beside her beauty and her kindness, she had a hidden power about her. A touch of something that was mine, something motherly. But there was something in her that I felt, that I feared, something dark and terrible and hidden behind a mask of graciousness. I don't blame you for falling in love with her – you were too much like Angel to deny her. And for a moment, she gave you something that no one had before – a single moment of perfect clarity.

Life continues to be unfair.

You were young and still impressionable, it was easy for Cordelia to manipulate you. At first, I didn't understand. I didn't know that you were so blind to her wiles, that you wouldn't suspect the evil inside of her. I wanted to protect, to show you what she truly was, what the consequences of your actions would be, but I was powerless to stop it. You thought you were going to be a father, that you would be able to give your child a life that you never had, that Angel and I could have never given you. You believed her when she told you that you were going to be a family, that your baby was special.

You bended to her will. You allowed that thing inside her to grow, allow yourself to be moved by it. Right and wrong continued to blur for you. Even when the others realized what Cordelia really was, you went on in denial.

I saw the conflict inside of you when you brought the young girl, the virgin. A spell to bring your 'baby' into the world called for innocent blood. She cried and you were moved by her tears. Despite whatever was to be born out of Cordelia, I did not want blood on my son's hands. For the very first time, I prayed. I prayed that you would change your mind, change your heart, that you would see. Then, by a miracle, you did see – _you saw me_.

The Powers whispered to me my purpose. As much as my heart swelled with joy that you could see me, hear my voice. I had to make you see reason. I had to direct you to the righteous choice, the harder decision. It stung to see you so cold, so focused on what someone else told you was good. I knew that you knew what you had to do, what you should have done. I was given another chance to save you, and I tried so hard but in the end, you had to make your own choice. I wish that you had made a better one.

I was taken back from visibility. Once again to be a spectator to your life, voiceless.

The world around you changed. The creature you brought into it was dazzling; all that looked upon her fell under her spell. Under the premise that she was going to make that world better for all, you followed her. Along with your father, his friends, and the spread of her 'so-called' love was inevitable. The all-loving screen gave you a chance to reconcile the relationship with your father, with those he called his family. But you knew – had always known – what beastly thing your daughter really was.

My heart broke for you when it came apart. You had believed that you were saving the world from evil, instead of condemning it. I cried with you, I screamed with you – I felt the pain you bore, the torture you suffered. I watched as you slipped into despair and into insanity. I hated the world as I had never hated anything before. I was despised by the way fate was playing you. It seemed only to want to make you suffer. We shared that loathing.

If I had been alive, I would have never left your side. I could not have done what Angel did. He bargained you a _free_ life. A life without demons and darkness and hopelessness. You remembered nothing and in turn, no one remembered you. Save for _us_, your real parents. I finally was able to see you truly happy – to see you smile and laugh without restraints. At least, in death, I never had to leave you. I was still able to watch, to love from afar.

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><p>The scene shifted. Suddenly I was not looking on in terror as Sahjahn choked the life from your body. In fact, Sahjahn disappeared altogether, leaving you unharmed on the table. With a cough and a roll, you ended up on the floor at my feet, sucking the oxygen back into your lungs.<p>

It didn't occur to me what was happening until you looked up. You looked me in the eye and I saw recognition cross into your own eyes. Your clear blue eyes were wet with tears as you stared up at me. I had no doubt that you were as surprised and confused as I was.

"Mom?" You crushed the silence with that whisper. I was overcome with emotion. The Powers had not pulled me into your realm to serve their purpose; I had no explanation for what was transpiring. I dropped to my knees before you, gravity getting the better of me. You quickly looked around, fear marring your features. I instinctively reached for you as I had for years before this moment. Only one thing was different – you turned into my touch. You covered the hand I held to your cheek with your own and I felt the warmth radiating from you.

"Mom?" You called again, like a question. I broke into sobs, unable to contain my tears any longer. You crawled closer, securing yourself into my embrace and relieved your own tears. I held you tightly to my chest, as I had yearned to do since the moment I felt you inside of my womb. I pressed my cheek to your hair, breathing you in between each shudder of my cries.

"Yes, I'm here," I answered, rocking you slowly. "I'm here, baby."

"I – I remember," you revealed. "I remember you."

"Shh, it's okay," I murmured, hearing the shock in your voice. "I know. Angel – your father – he was trying to save you, protect you."

"No, no." You shook your head vehemently, pulling away slightly in order to look me in the eye. "I remember... that I know you. You're my mother, my real mother."

"Yes," I nodded, smoothing the hair away from your face. Your eyebrows knitted and it was obvious that I wasn't understanding what you meant. You stared at me, not like you'd seen a ghost as you had before but as if you'd finally recognized something you'd been looking at for a long time.

"All this time, I -" You swallowed, nervous as if your words could have an adverse effect. "Ever since I can remember, I felt you around me."

"You knew I was here?" My voice cracked a little. I felt swollen with gratitude, with joy. You reached up and touched my face, just as amazed that we could touch each other.

"But you're dead," you murmured, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. I rubbed them away with the pad of my thumb, nodding again. It begged that question again: _why_ could he see me? Now, when a moment ago, he was fighting for his life. I looked around the room. Nothing had changed except for the absence of Sahjahn.

It occurred to me that it should have been obvious. I wasn't given instructions because I knew what to do. Just as any mother would know _exactly_ what to do.

"I'm afraid." You confessed. I took the back of my hand and wiped my eyes, clearing them of tears. I smiled comfortingly at you, exhaling deeply.

"You don't have to be, Connor," I said. "Everything is going to be okay."

"Am I -"

"No," I interjected before he could ask the question he most feared. "No, you're not."

"Then why am I here?"

"I've been watching you your whole life. I remember every single day. I know everything you felt because I'm _here_," I signaled my place, touching my fingertips to your chest, right above your heart. "I'm a part of you, Connor. Always."

"Mom." You said again with a small smile, holding my hand to your chest. I felt your heart beat just as deeply and as strongly as it ever had. I remembered how that heartbeat felt from inside of me. I remember with precision that you shared your soul with me. It was a bond more than the umbilical cord connecting your body to mine, it was _spiritual_.

If not for you, I would not be here. I would have surely been in hell, burning infinitely for my sins. It was not enough to redeem my own soul, to save it from the thirsty suffering that still awaited me. But because of you, I was given this chance to see you, to be with you in a way unique to mother and son.

"You're becoming such a good man," I crooned, the smile on my lips not false. "I am so proud of you. I... I was honored to watch you grow up. You're everything I could've hoped for, my beautiful boy."

"No," you shook your head again, clasping my hands tightly. "You can't -"

"It's life, honey. Sometimes you have to say goodbye."

"It's not fair!" You cried, throwing yourself into me. I sighed profoundly as your arms wound around me, refusing to let me go. I could have spent the rest of eternity like this, at last being able to do all those things I'd dreamt about. But that was not my fate. Nor was it yours.

My four hundred years stretched out behind me, marked with horror and tragedy, most of which I was the cause of. It was only at this very moment that it all seemed like a blur. An obscure retelling of my life that had little consequence until I died. I died for you. I bought your life with my ashes. As blissful as it was to be able to be here, as much as it ruined me to know it, every mother had to let go of their child.

"Life is never fair. There's never enough time. And more often than not, it will feel like there's no one on your side. Life is cruel, Connor, and unjust. Heroes don't always get happy endings, and evil prevails in this world. But there _is_ good in you, power _and_ love. You don't have to be afraid of anything. You're my son."

"I don't want to go back. I want to stay here with you."

"You have to. You know you don't belong here." I moved, tucking your shoulder under mine. I cradled you to me, returning to that slow, consoling rock. You relaxed against me, but your embrace remained solid. A moment of serene silence passed and I knew that you had accepted what was going to happen.

"Does it hurt to die?" You asked innocently. I remember dying several times. I remember bringing death to hundreds. The cut of flesh under fangs, the desperate way a heart slowed to a stop. The way existence dropped away in an instant.

"No, baby," I whispered. I pressed my lips to your forehead, your cheek, kissing you sweetly. I knew that it was time for you to leave. That this single moment, this one astounding moment, was all I had. It would be enough to get me through hell. Because I had never, ever been so perfectly happy nor satisfied nor utterly in love as I was in this moment. "It's painless."

"I love you, Mom." I laid my cheek on your temple, closing my eyes. I just breathed, feeling you so close to me.

"I love you, too, _so _much."

"You won't leave me?" This was not so much a question as a verification of the impossible.

"Never."

The chasm that had haunted my steps, tortured my being, plagued my life never pained me again. It was filled with hope, elation and a love that survived death. It was filled with _you_.


End file.
